A/N: Been really depressed... So this is a story I thought up. It does contain suicide, and it's gonna be really sad. If suicide, cutting, or depressive thoughts easily upset you, I don't recommend you read this.
(y/n) used to be a happy girl. She always wore that same sweet smile on her face, had the same exuberant glow in her shiny (e/c) eyes, and always walked with her pretty little head held high. That is.. Until she transferred to the World Academy. When the young girl first set foot inside the building, she still had her same peppy attitude, same bright and cheery personality. However, as time drove on, and she began to become familiar with the students at the World Academy, she began to lose her light, and her bright and friendly personality turned to a dull and secluded one. She was no longer the fun, bright, bubbly girl she had been at her old school. Now, all she knew was sorrow, pain, suffering. All at the hands of those heartless bastards.
She thought she'd make at least one friend, someone to be a companion throughout these last 4 years of school. Now, she was in her Junior year, and she'd had no such luck. Everyone either hated her guts for whatever reason, didn't acknowledge her existence, or abandoned her shortly after meeting her. She still remembers all their hateful words, particularly those of a certain American teenaged boy. Holy shit, (y/n) have you ever even had any friends? I wouldn't wanna be friends with someone as fat, ugly and worthless as you. Go fucking die already, you fat slut. She remembers the physical abuse, especially from that damn albino. She remembers the girls, especially that girl from Taiwan, constantly picking on her for her size, or calling her a pathetic loner when she would sit alone at lunch. She remembers it all, and it hurts her every day.
Currently, she sat on her bed, eyes red and burning from the copious amounts of tears she'd shed today. Looking at the clock, it read 3:10 AM. It's Friday night, so it's not like she has to be asleep right now. Her parents paid little to no attention to her, and her older siblings constantly ridiculed her for no clear reason, sometimes it seemed they just pulled excuses out of their asses. She'd had enough. She used to be happy. She used to have friends, a cheery personality. Now, all of that is gone because nobody is there for her. They all thought she was happy. She'll prove to them that they should have paid attention.
She headed to her white dresser and pulled out one of her freshly cleaned razors. She sat back down on her bed and began slicing her wrists open one cut at a time. A small slit sound could be heard, and seconds later beads of dark crimson blood surfaced. She was a hollow shell now. She felt numb. Sure, she felt the pain that was brought on by the razor ripping her skin apart. But she was beginning to slowly numb the emotional torment she felt. Tears still spilled out of her eyes, drenching her shirt in a torrential rainfall of salt and water. She ran through the same old process she always did when she cut. That's for being stupid. That's for talking to that person. That's for being fat. That's for being ugly. That's for not being good enough. The list went on. She never understood why the pain had to be a constant presence in her life. All she knew was that she wanted it to stop. And she was willing to go to any length to make it all end.
5 minutes passed, blood completely covered her arm, not a clean patch of skin in sight. There must have been at least 300 cuts, if not more. She heard a small voice in the back of her head telling her to stop, that there were other options, that life was worth one more fight, that she wouldn't struggle forever. She quickly silenced it, and continued. She didn't have to continue much longer before she began to feel light headed and nauseous. She tried to continue, but simply couldn't because her hands were shaking too much for her to get a good grip on the blade. It fell out of her bloodied palm, and onto the carpeted floor, which was also stained with her blood, a small pool of it formed where the blade had fallen.
She tries to stand so she can make it to the bathroom and clean her arm at least a tiny bit, but falls soon after. The room begins to spin and shake violently, and her (e/c) eyes began to take on a glazed look. Life was slipping out of her grasp, and she knew it perfectly well. No turning back now. No turning back ever. Just a few moments more, and she'd be erased from this world. Goodbye everyone... Sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to. -
A few days later, news of (y/n)'s death ran rampant across the school, like wildfire across a dense forest. Some were shocked, some saddened, some indifferent. But there was one boy it hit harder than most. Matthew Williams. The shy, sweet, sensitive 16 year old brother of Alfred Jones. Hard to believe they were even related, since they're polar opposites. His heart instantly shattered the second he'd heard of her death. "W-why... Why?!" He broke down in the middle of class, after receiving a text message from his friend Francis, informing him of his crush's sudden suicide. He had found out from Arthur, who learned of it from Alfred, him from Gilbert, and him from Antonio, until pretty much everyone had heard of it. Some of the girls laughed at it, some cried. A few that really did feel bad for her, like Feliciano, instantly began bawling their eyes out.
But still, none took as hard a hit as Matthew. He loved her, more than anything in the world. He was just so damnably shy he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He'd seen the scars. He'd seen through the fake smile, the forced laughs. He'd known she was in pain, yet he couldn't bring himself to man the fuck up and say something to her, to let her know that there was someone that gave a flying fuck about her, and she shouldn't have to suffer alone. Now, she was gone. She was gone and there was nothing he could do about it. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. It hurt. It stung. It burned. It pained him to know that now, he'd NEVER get a chance to tell her he loved her with his whole heart, and he'd never see a real smile on her face. He'd never get a chance to make her happy. Never.